


Foxes Came to See Me

by littlelotte



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, anyway this is really sappy and sweet i wrote this for all 5 of my mutuals who like this ship, kisses u all directly on the mouth, this is literally the minecraft of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelotte/pseuds/littlelotte
Summary: Yuri had dropped his bag and stared at him, stared through him. Stared as long and hard as he could in the hopes of finding any ounce of ill will."I was wondering if you’d like to. Visit, every once in a while. Not for business or anything—but as friends. I…"He’d paused then, licking his lips for the umpteenth time. Yuri’s heart was hammering in his chest and he, for once, did nothing to stop it."What I mean to say is…I’ll miss you. I’ll miss your stories, and your company. I...You have been a wonderful friend to me, and so, if you wouldn’t mind it I…"
Relationships: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd & yuri leclerc, dimitri alexandre blaiddyd/yuri leclerc
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	Foxes Came to See Me

When the war ended, Yuri thought—very briefly—that he could return to life as he knew it. He’d go back underground, continue his activities as Mockingbird, make sure his people are fed, and share late meals with his wolves. In a way, it was sort of idyllic. Sure, Abyss had its problems, but it was home. Beaver-sized rats, crazy drunks, musty smell and all. 

He’d spent a couple of weeks in Fhirdiad. Dimitri had provided all of his old classmates rooms in the castle to recuperate before heading back to their old lives. For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to finagle his way into noble quarters. Dimitri insisted several times that he wanted them there, that he couldn’t imagine anything better, that he loved and cared for them all deeply. 

Evidently, that affection spread to Yuri himself, because when he was about to leave for good, Dimitri stopped him in his tracks. 

_I hope, ah...I know you lead a busy life and all, but we have become friends since...well, as time’s gone on, we’ve become friends I think and so…_

Yuri had dropped his bag and stared at him, stared _through_ him. Stared as long and hard as he could in the hopes of finding any ounce of ill will. 

_I was wondering if you’d like to. Visit, every once in a while. Not for business or anything_ — _but as friends. I…_

He’d paused then, licking his lips for the umpteenth time. Yuri’s heart was hammering in his chest and he, for once, did nothing to stop it. 

_What I mean to say is…I’ll miss you. I’ll miss your stories, and your company. I...You have been a wonderful friend to me, and so, if you wouldn’t mind it I…_

Yuri cut him off then. He’d thrown his head back, laughed, and told him to just spit it out next time. Of _course_ he’d visit. Why wouldn’t he? With how busy they’d been, he’d only gotten to tell him half the story of the Wayward Hound. 

Dimitri had smiled then. Really smiled. It was a rare sight and, even though they’d become decent enough friends, he hardly ever saw it. He left that day carrying his pack, his weapons, and a basket of fresh-baked cookies that Dimitri himself toiled over. 

And of course, it was never his intention to spend more time around the nobility than was strictly necessary. In most situations, he’d rather tie himself to a boat and let nearby seagulls pluck out his eyeballs than listen to Baron Who-Gives-A-Shit prattle on about his _great accomplishments._

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, king of Faerghus and world renown Human Teddy Bear, is—unfortunately— _not_ “most situations.” 

So when he finds himself back in Fhirdiad a few months later, he heads for the castle. The guards aren’t going to just let him waltz through the front door, so he does the normal thing any person with a brain does and climbs up through a window, landing himself ass-first in what is apparently! Dedue’s room. 

“Oh! Hey. Sorry. Just dropping in—”

“What in the _Goddess’_ name is wrong with you.” 

Yuri blinks. Dedue had clearly been relaxing with a pot of tea, flipping through what looks like a modern cookbook. His teacup (which was originally on the table) had been knocked over onto the floor, surrounded by a puddle of orange liquid already seeping into the carpet. 

“Oh. You know. Just wanted to see my old—”

Dedue cuts him off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “His Majesty is in the training arena. He should be finishing up his swordsmanship lessons with the children and will have some free time afterwards.” 

Yuri nods. 

Dedue flips another page of his book. 

“I’ll. I’ll go then.”

“Yes. Go.” 

He offers to help clean but Dedue gives him a look that says _you have five seconds to get the hell out of here_ so he leaves, making his way down vaguely familiar corridors. In one of them there’s a large portrait of the late king, his queen, and a five-year old Dimitri, smiling all toothy and bright. It makes him stop for a minute and breathe as he tries to reconcile that innocent child with the man he knew during the war. 

When he gets to the training grounds, he immediately spots the king down beside a child. The child keeps shaking her head rapidly, while Dimitri, all smiles and reassurance, nods. It’s a sweet scene. Yuri leans against a far wall and watches until the child, after thoroughly wiping her eyes, scurries off. 

When Dimitri gets up and spots Yuri, his eye goes comically wide. 

‘Ah! Yuri, you—you’re here! You. How did you…”

Yuri laughs, gesturing upward. “Don’t you know? I grew wings and flew in from the clouds.” 

Dimitri continues gawking at him. 

“Alright, I walked here, obviously. But I don’t know what’s so strange about seeing me. Aren’t you the one who suggested I visit?” 

Dimitri blinks once, twice, then shakes his head. “I. I know that, I just. I wasn’t expecting you and. And had I known, I would’ve freed up more time for you. That’s all.” 

There’s a pause again; Dimitri brushes the dirt off his pants, breathes in, and smiles. Something akin to guilt pangs in Yuri’s chest as he watches the king collect himself. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and it _would_ have been a lot kinder to warn him beforehand. He doesn’t consider himself...rude, per se. He has his moments, sure, but he doesn’t take advantage of people. Well. He doesn’t take advantage of people he _likes._ He doesn’t—wouldn't take advantage of Dimitri. Never Dimitri. In the beginning, when he first met him, there were times when he...

“Regardless, I am glad you’re here. You’ve been well, I hope?” 

Whatever’s rising in Yuri’s throat, he swallows it with a smirk. “You should know by now that I _always_ make sure I’m well. My question is: has His Majesty been faring well without me by his side?” 

At that, Dimitri blushes a little, twiddling his fingers in that cute way he does. “Things have been alright here. Although I will admit that I did, er...Well I missed your company. Is that, ah,” he pulls his lips into a tight frown, “is that strange to say?”

Yuri gives him a pointed look, ignoring the way the admission makes his heart stutter. “Your Highness! I’m surprised at you. You know I’d be more disappointed if you said you _didn’t_ miss me, right? Hell, I think I’d even be heartbroken.”

Dimitri takes a breath and his frown gives way to a soft smile. The redness on his cheeks has spread to his ears and, despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to stop fidgeting. It’s sweet, really, and _Goddess_ —Yuri may or may not have it bad. 

“In that case, I’m glad you’re here. Care to join me for tea?” 

Yuri makes a gesture toward the corridor. “After you.” 

* * *

Back in Dimitri’s chambers, Yuri is handed a cup of warm chamomile, sweetened with honey and spiced with cinnamon. There are pastries, too. The kind he likes, funnily enough, (although, to be fair, he likes most pastries) and Dimitri’s already insisted he’d run down to the kitchen to get more if they ran out. 

The room itself is lovely. It’s rather small, what with a table, a couch, modest decorations, a row of bookshelves—it’s quite a bit more homey than one would expect of a royal. Dimitri, despite his wealth, is never extravagant. His space is neat, orderly, and frankly, welcoming. 

“You know,” Yuri starts, finishing off another bite of danish, “I figured the king’s chambers would be a little more, well, irritating to look at. But here you go, proving me wrong once again.” 

Dimitri shrugs, poking around at his muffin with a fork. “I never saw a point in wasting money on ornate furniture when those funds could be allocated to something more important.” 

Yuri snorts into his tea. “You ought to try telling that to every noble in the kingdom.” 

“You were adopted into House Rowe, correct? I am sure you are aware of the exact sort of ridiculousness I’m talking about.” 

“Oh, yeah. The golden fountain? Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. If I was half as strong as you, I would have picked it up off the ground and beat the Count over the head with it.” 

Dimitri laughs, airy and light like nothing matters; it’s something Yuri decides he likes. 

“I could see you doing that.” 

He flashes a smirk. “Who knows? Maybe someday I will.” 

They continue on like that for a while, back and forth. Dimitri pours more tea, smiles, laughs, jokes around about something silly, and just _exists._ He’s himself in a way Yuri’s not accustomed to, rolling with the punches and moving to the beat. It makes him feel...lighter, somehow. Sure, he may have a slight crush on the guy (which is something he’s still trying to wrap his head around) but if anything makes sense, if anything feels _right_ , it’s watching his unlikely companion enjoy himself. 

“By the way, Yuri,” Dimitri says, changing the subject, “if you don’t mind me asking, what have you been up to the past couple of months? And also, how is your mother doing?” 

Leave it to His Majesty to ask complicated questions. 

“What have I been up to? My friend, what with you being the king and all, I don’t think I can be very truthful. I will say that I’ve been causing problems, but they’re nothing you have to worry your cute little head over.” 

Dimitri raises an eyebrow. 

“As for my mother,” he continues, shoulders sagging a bit, “she’s fine. I haven’t seen her in a little while. Last time I did, she wanted to hear all about Blaidydd Castle and of course, the king. If you’re curious, I told her nothing but good things about you, and now she’s added you to her list of people she wants to bake for before she kicks the bucket.” 

There’s a short pause after that; Dimitri gives a thoughtful nod. “You miss her, don’t you?”

Yuri looks at him for a minute. He studies the planes of his face, the curvature of his cheeks. There is never any malice, never any bad omens or mismatched intentions. Dimitri is kind, plain and simple. Oddly enough, he can see right through Yuri. He pinpoints the hidden messages in his words and presses on them, ever so slightly. He’s a lot more observant than Yuri initially gave him credit for. 

“Of course I miss her. I mean, between running around with my men and looking after people in Abyss, it doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of time for home visits.” Distracted, he starts picking flakes of sugar off his pastry. “I send letters with the supplies and all that. She keeps insisting she doesn’t need any goods or money from me, but I’ve no intention of stopping anytime soon. She has a good heart, you know? And she wears it on her sleeve. She’s always worrying about my safety and telling me to come home more. I would if I could—I _want_ to. It’s just.” He shrugs. “It’s just hard to find time.” 

Dimitri nods again, this time with a sympathetic smile. “If you’d like, I could provide her transportation to Fhirdiad. You said she’d like to see the castle and, if you’re planning on staying for a bit I—”

Yuri cuts him off. “That. Won’t be necessary. If I wanted to get her here, I could pay for it myself. Don’t bend over backwards for us.” 

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. The muscles in his face had tightened and his tone was icy. Dimitri wrings his hands and frowns, tea and sweets forgotten. A heavy, awkward silence fills the room as Yuri, idiot that he is, mentally kicks himself. 

“I. Hadn’t meant to sound so...irritated. What I mean is, that’s nice of you, but I don’t need you offering us money. My mother is taken care of, and I am too. Like I said, she does want to see this place, so if the offer’s open, I’ll bring her down sometime. For now, though, don’t worry about it.” 

Seemingly content with that response, Dimitri lets out a breath he’s been holding for a while. 

“Very well.” 

At that, Yuri smiles, too. He wonders, a bit absentmindedly, if Dimitri notices it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“More tea, my friend?”

Yuri tries to adjust himself, to smile more openly and naturally. He can tell by the faint twitch in the king’s brows that it isn’t working. 

“Gladly.” 

In the quiet that follows, Yuri looks around the room again. It’s nice. It’s cozy. It’s...intimate. It feels, first and foremost, like a place for joy and merriment. At the same time, the walls are thick enough to house important conversation. To ensure the smallest little whispers secrecy. It’s the sort of place Yuri could relax in. 

“Tell me, Dimitri.” 

It’s the sort of place he could be himself in. 

“Even as king, you’re still keeping up with teaching orphans swordsmanship lessons. How do you manage it?”

Dimitri perks up at that. He’d been silent for a while, poking around at his muffin again. For whatever reason, he’s never too keen on eating, well, anything. It’s something he’ll have to keep an eye on. 

“The orphans,” he murmurs, pressing his fingers flat on the table. “Many of them had heard that I used to provide lessons during my academy days. Some of my past students, a bit older now, came back to me, bringing with them friends, siblings, and other interested children. When I saw that they wanted to learn from me, I couldn’t turn them down. I thought that I would teach them a few tricks, then send them on their way. I thought that it would be good for them.”

As Dimitri talks, Yuri watches. He looks troubled in the same way he often did after Gronder. His lips are pursed, his shoulders are stiff, and his brows are furrowed. Like Mom, Dimitri wears his heart on his sleeve. 

With a shuddering breath, he continues: “I tried to resign today. I tried to tell them that I didn’t think these lessons were good for them. When I tried to explain what that meant, many of them became angry at me. I told them that—I told them that I don’t think children should have to learn how to wield a blade. I told them that we aren’t going to go to war anymore, so they should have fun, play with their friends, be... _kids._ ” 

Yuri nods slowly, lacing his fingers together. “And...What did they say when you told them that?”

Dimitri smiles, small and sad. “They said that I was being stupid. They said that they need to know how to fight so that they can protect themselves, so that they can protect their siblings. Some of them even said they wanted to join the knights one day, or the military, so that if the Empire ever attacks again, they’ll be ready to fight back.” A pause. A breath. “The young girl you saw me with? She’s about eleven. She took it harder than any of them, begging me to keep teaching her to fight so that she never has to see anybody she loves die again.” 

The thought of her is sobering. Initially, Yuri thought she was sad over some perceived failure, when really…

Breathing in again, Dimitri balls his hands into tight fists. “I apologized and agreed to keep tutoring them. I vowed then, quietly to myself, that I would never throw us into another war. That...That I would be a good enough king to make sure that soon enough, no children have to fight in the streets. No children have to carry weapons. The greatest gift I can give to them isn’t swordsmanship, but the promise of a better life. The promise that their children, and the children that follow will never know the weight of a weapon in their hands.” 

For the first time in his life—the first time he can remember, at least—somebody’s managed to take his breath away. Dimitri looks small like this, shoulders hunched and fingers twisted together, but at the same time, he’s larger than life. Yuri isn’t one for praising nobles; he isn’t even the type to give much of the shit when those in power talk about “making a difference.” They never do, they never, _never_ do. But Dimitri? Watching him talk makes his chest tighten in a way that was previously unknown to him. When he smiles, Yuri’s throat closes up like there’s something waiting to burst out from his lungs. It’s a strange, new, horrifying feeling. It’s anticipation and pain and it’s. It’s. _Worth something._

“If it helps, Dimitri,” Yuri starts, quieter than expected, “I don’t give these sort of compliments often, but I think you’re already a plenty great king. You’re never going to stop violence, not entirely, but the fact that you care enough to try is admirable in itself.” He pushes his plate to the side and stares at him, expression stern. “But don’t go killing yourself trying to do it, okay? I mean, hell, you’ve already been building orphanages, allocating money to the poor, reinstating Duscur, I mean...You’re too hard on yourself. You’re doing more for this country than—no offense—every other Faerghan king has in their lifetime. So just. Relax, once in a while. You’re doing well, alright? You’re doing well.” 

When Dimitri looks up at him, his eye is wet; Yuri’s breath hitches because dealing with crying is absolutely _not_ his expertise and if that happens he may very well shrivel up and die. 

Surprisingly, Dimitri sniffles, wipes his eye, takes a deep breath and smiles. “You have far too much faith in me. Weren’t you the one who, during our first time alone together, told me you don’t care for noble brats?”

Yuri leans back in his chair, covering his relief with a smirk. “I care about one noble brat. Two if you count Constance.” 

“What about Bernadetta?”

“Okay fine. Three.” 

Dimitri laughs again and Yuri swears it makes the room brighter. 

“Alright, alright. Enough of that. How about instead of making ourselves sad, you tell me another story.” 

Yuri rests his chin in his hand, brows raised. “For free? You know, I usually make Balthus beat me in a bet if he wants to hear a story.” 

Dimitri huffs. “Didn’t you say that before you left you still had to finish telling me the story of the wayward hound? The folktale from your village?” 

“Will His Majesty the King throw me in the dungeon if I don’t?”

“No, but I’ll be pretty upset with you.” 

Yuri laughs, _really_ laughs, and it’s a startling, ugly thing. He hates how much of an effect this man has on him. Or, he _should_ hate it, but he doesn’t. 

“Alright, you got me. So, where did I leave off…” As he begins his recap, he’s careful not to confuse any of the details. The Wayward Hound isn’t _actually_ a folktale—he made it up. It was an excuse, more or less, to talk to Dimitri, who said he liked stories. It was an excuse to watch him light up with a smile, to watch him tilt his head in confusion. It was an excuse to exist, really, and to be himself without any expectations. 

“Alright so the Wayward Hound. After a while of traveling, he happens upon a small, run-down village in the north. It’s cold there, and it’s an easy target for bears and wolves. Many of the animals living there are foxes, rabbits, cats and squirrels. They’re a tight-knit society. They share food, housing, and warmth. When he arrived, rumor spread quickly that if you got too close to him, you’d be able to smell the blood on his breath, and that you wouldn’t be able to forget that scent for as long as you lived.” 

Dimiti listens intently, nodding slowly as Yuri goes on. 

“Knowing that the townsfolk were easy targets, the Hound took watch on a large hill that overlooked the central road. Many were afraid of him. Parents held their children close and told them never to go near him, for if they did, they would never be the same.” 

Dimitri frowns, but urges him to continue. 

“One night, a young fox from the village set out onto the hill. He wanted to know if the Hound was truly dangerous, or if all of that was just hearsay. When he found him, the Hound growled something fierce. “Leave,” he said, showing the young fox his bloodstained teeth. “You do not belong here.” The Fox looked confused, but not scared. “I do belong here,” he replied, tilting his head, “you’re the one who doesn’t. Why did you come? For what reason do you always stink of blood?”’ 

Yuri leans a bit closer, his voice going quiet. “The Hound stared at him for a while, unflinching. The Fox stood his ground, confident and proud. “It is because,” the Hound began, looking away, “if I am not here, then you and your people will be eaten by lions, tigers, bears and wolves. You cannot protect yourself, and so I will. I will be a villain to many if it means being the savior of a few.”’

He pauses for a breath. The story isn’t going how he anticipated, but there’s no choice but to finish it. “After a moment, the Fox smiled, then turned around to leave. “I have my answer then. Keep at it, Old Watchdog. I’ll have to inform everyone that the rumors are true, though. Because now that I’ve met you, I am not the same.” And with that, the Fox made his way down the hill, back to his family and to his home. The Hound, having been treated with genuine kindness for the first time in years, shed a single, salty tear.” 

And with that, it’s over. Yuri splays his hands out and smiles. “The end! So then, Your Majesty, was it worth your time?” 

Dimitri is silent for a moment; his brows are knit together like he’s deep and thought. 

“I like him.” 

Yuri blinks. “Huh?

“The Hound. I like him. I like him a lot, actually.” 

“You...You like him? I didn’t desi—I mean, the folktale doesn’t make him out to be likable. He’s just. Necessary.” 

Dimitri shakes his head, blond wisps moving back and forth. “Maybe so, but still, he is the hero, isn’t he? He is lonely, and he considers himself cold, but still, he cares for those around him. He cares so much that he behaves as though he _doesn’t_ care what people think of him. Everything he does, he does it to ensure that those who cannot protect themselves are safe. They call him horrible things, and yet his kindness knows no bounds. He is a hero, sure and true.” 

Yuri gawks a little, then turns away. There isn’t much he can do to hide the fact that his cheeks have gone red, but he shifts himself so that his hair falls over his face. 

“You’re a real weirdass, you know that?” 

There’s a smile in Dimitri’s voice. “It takes one to know one, I suppose.”

“Yeah. I’ll say.” 

‘In any case,” Dimitri says, laughing again, “I like you, Yuri. Thank you.” 

The blush moves to his ears as he wrinkles his nose. “I like you, too.” 

When he looks back at Dimitri, it’s like staring directly into the sun. 

_Yeah._ He’s got it bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> shut up i am literally having a meltdown rn
> 
> anyway THANK YOU for reading this it means a lot to me. I feel a bit silly for writing something for a ship nobody really cares about BUT I like them a lot and I think the fact that they don't have supports is a microaggression. Thank you so much kiss kiss
> 
> my twit is @/spiritcrests i'm locked but if you wanna live deliciously u may knock on my door heehoo


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